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I posed for a guy in his fifties whom I'd worked with earlier. He was in a cross mood, constantly badgered by telephone calls while we worked, and another guy in his late teens worked with him, apparently taking an art course from the older guy. But while they worked and I posed, I watched and listened. It became more evident that any fantasy I might have about being an overnight success in New York was not just fantasy; it was simply bizarre. The two people working as I posed were highly skilled, talented, and hard working. I heard them talking about the difficulty of merely making a living in the arts, the complex politics of it, the competition and backbiting. I knew, more than ever, that I had a long way to go before I could make my own way in New York.It was enough to put me into a mild funk by the time I met Ronnie in Union Square. That, and worrying about Martha and Howard again.Ronnie greeted me with a kiss and a hug. She carried a shopping bag filled with several of her. Besides, the earlier she goes to bed, the earlier I can make myself free inside the bathroom to take care of my raging hardon.“Oh, come on. Just a little piece. You know I loved that cake” She said. I remembered how she had licked her fingers lustily that evening. “Please.” She pleaded.“Oh, alright” I caved and took out the cake from the fridge. “But only because you are the birthday girl.”I cut a fairly large piece on to a plate and brought it to her. Mom was sitting on the bed in my room, which was now her room. “Here” I handed it to her. She took the plate from me and patted the empty space next to her on the bed asking me to sit by her. I promptly obeyed.Mom was thoroughly enjoying her cake. With every bite, she would let out an orgasmic moan like that was the best cake she had ever had. She would scoop a big chunk of cake with her spoon and would stuff the entire thing into her mouth, clasping the spoon with her mouth. When she slowly slid the spoon out of her mouth, it would be.
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